


Co-Op

by Klitch



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, implied emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a new coffee shop down the road, now that Fushimi thought of it. He might as well try it once. // Yata knew it was definitely going to be a good day, as long as he didn't get any asshole customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Co-Op

**Author's Note:**

> Finished just in time for Fushimi's birthday. A continuation of an ask-fic I posted on Tumblr a while back with only the first line as a prompt, I didn't intend to continue it at the time but thought it might be nice for Fushimi's birthday. This probably could've been longer but I kinda like it at this length.

hottemperedskateboarder: "Oi, Saru." 

The word bubble popped into existence, accompanied by the familiar computerized voice. Onscreen a ninja in red skateboarded down the side of a building and then did an unnecessarily fancy flip – the avatar stuttered and flickered for just a second, the usual glitch that one would expect to have been fixed by now – and then dived down into a horde of black smoke monsters. 

19knives: “Shouldn't you be paying more attention to the enemies in front of you than doing stupid tricks, Misaki?” 

Another avatar in blue shot a wall of magic over the ninja's head, obliterating three more enemies. Experience points popped up over its head. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Well you've been hiding for half the fight, I thought you left.” 

There was a brick wall in front of them. A quick change of screen to the items menu, then back to the main screen and the blue avatar placed something like a small butterfly on the wall. Immediately the wall winked out of existence – well, it was supposed to be immediately but it glitched slightly too, really this game was a piece of shit – and there was a black portal in its place. 

19knives: “If I left it would be because you were about to get us killed. Mi. Sa. Ki.” 

Each syllable was very slow and pronounced, deliberately, so the text as well as the voice would pick it up as three distinct words. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “I told you not to call me that Saruhiko!” 

19knives: “What else am I supposed to call you, idiot? It's the only name of yours I know.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Well if you ever asked I'd--” 

19knives: “So are you ready to go into the dungeon or do you need a healer first?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Are you listening to me or not? Anyway I gotta go.” 

The avatars onscreen barely moved, save for the jerky motions they defaulted to when not being controlled. After a minute of silence, the red avatar jumped into the air. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Hey, did you leave?” 

19knives: “I'm still here.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Look I started a new job and I have the early shift. I'll be back later and we can take on the dungeon, okay?” 

19knives: “Say that before I open the portal, idiot. Now anyone can go in and take our item drop.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “They can?” 

19knives: “You've been playing this game for how long?” 

Somehow even the emotionless computerized voice managed to get across just a hint of the scorn that was no doubt present in the blue player's voice. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Well you usually handle that stuff!” 

19knives: “I can lock it but that wastes another item. Use your paycheck to pay me back Misaki.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “I'm going to! I'm going to buy us all kinds of cool gear once I have money so there!” 

19knives: “Is that so? Tired of being a freeloader, huh, Misaki?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Anyway I'll be back online later, okay? Will you be on?” 

No answer, but the blue player pulled out a giant crystal padlock and set it on the wall. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Saru? Saruhiko? Hey, did you log off again?” 

19knives: “Later.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “What?” 

19knives: “I'll be online later. This afternoon or tonight. We'll meet here?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Right!” 

The computerized voice almost caught the cheer in that voice too. If it wasn't for that filter disguising it the voice probably would have been the sort of thing that could make someone's breath catch in their throat (if they cared for that sort of thing). 

hottemperedskateboarder: “I'll see you later then! Bye, Saruhiko!” 

19knives: “Right. Later.” 

A click of a button, and a new screen. Log out. 

\-- 

Fushimi clicked his tongue as he shut his laptop. Honestly, that idiot never stopped bugging him, even during missions. This was why he didn't like playing co-op mode. 

He hadn't even intended to play Kings in the first place, it had a shitty interface and at least a few nearly game-breaking bugs, not to mention some easy to exploit cheats if you knew where to find them (he swore if he could ever find a proper contact address for Scepter4 Systems Fushimi was sending them a very long and detailed email focusing on exactly what parts of their stupid game needed fixing, possibly with a computer virus added for good measure). He'd played almost every other online RPG, though, and leveled his characters as much as he could until he inevitably hit the ceiling for a single player and fuck if he was going to do multiplayer and go on stupid missions with stupid idiots who were always getting in his way. 

He'd expected Kings to be the same. Create a throwaway character, level grind in his spare time (which there was a lot of nowadays, in between coding jobs), gather up all the rare items he could get on his own, get bored, quit, find another game. Day after day, same as always. Occasionally take a break whenever he got an email or phone call with a job request and once every couple of weeks he forced himself out of the apartment to go shopping or get a coffee, but other than that Fushimi mostly sat there in the apartment and played. 

(He wasn't lonely, of course. He'd learned already how pointless the rest of the world was and how it had as little use for him as he did for it. And going outside always made him feel twitchy and exposed, like he was being watched, so it was better to stay inside where it was calm and he could breathe.) 

Fushimi's plans had been interrupted by Kings' shitty interface which made it ridiculously difficult to turn on the private option and lock out other players from joining him in a quest. After two days of running off everyone who'd tried to join up with him – to take advantage of the newbie, no doubt – Fushimi was close to just quitting the game all together. And then he'd been joined by a stupid avatar belonging to an idiot with an even stupider screen name. Fushimi had tried to ignore him but the moron wouldn't stop chatting with him, every word plastered across the screen in a speech bubble accompanied by the hollow computer voice that Kings automatically assigned to voice chat (for 'privacy reasons,' the game said, as if a game that hid its privacy controls better than its rare items gave a shit about that). Even when Fushimi had told him in no uncertain terms to go away, Misaki had insisted on 'helping' him through a particularly difficult underground sewer maze. 

Misaki hadn't been much help, of course. Sure, he'd saved Fushimi's character once or twice by guarding his back, but that was about it. If it hadn't become clear halfway through that the quest was near-impossible to do alone Fushimi would have just closed the game and come back another time once the idiot was gone. But they'd done pretty well, in the end. Misaki had let him have the bulk of the treasure including the rare item drop, so that was all right. 

When Fushimi had logged on the next time and found the notification that he had been added to someone's friend list, he'd almost quit right there. 

He hadn't, though. At first he'd told himself it was just because Misaki was so stupid it was almost amusing, and besides it couldn't hurt to have one person to call on if there was an event quest that could only be run co-op. So he'd kept playing and Misaki kept showing up. 

Fushimi had initially assumed his new partner was either a kid or a girl, because despite having chosen a character type built for agility he'd loaded himself down with all the most ridiculous heavy armor, the kind only someone desperate to have their character appear bad-ass used. Once he'd talked with Misaki more Fushimi had realized it was probably option three, that Misaki was just an idiot, and so Fushimi had taken it upon himself to fix the issue and had managed to outfit Misaki's character with some decent armor and weapons that made him much more effective in battle. 

That was how they'd learned each other's first names. Some of the armor Fushimi deemed best was only available as in-game purchase, and he'd reluctantly decided it was worth it to spend his actual money on. What he hadn't realized was buying armor for someone _else_ apparently sent them a receipt as well, with his family name blurred out but first name printed clear. After that, Misaki had started calling him 'Saruhiko' all the time. He'd convinced Misaki to give up his own name out of some misguided sense of fairness (if their situations had been reversed Fushimi certainly wouldn't have given up his name for anything), and been rather amused by how vehemently Misaki insisted that Fushimi never use it. So of course Fushimi used it as much as possible. 

Fushimi reached for the bag of chips next to his computer and then clicked his tongue in annoyance when his hand found an empty bag. Reluctantly he rose, wrapping his blanket tight over his shoulders – the apartment was freezing as usual but he had limited funds and games were more important than heat, and not begging his family for money was more important than actually being able to eat three full meals a day – as he made his way into the small corner that functioned as a kitchen. The mini-fridge was nearly empty, as were the cupboards, and Fushimi swallowed a groan. Apparently it was time for the every-other-week grocery shopping trip. 

He tugged on his sleeves a little, biting his lip and grimacing. Misaki said he had work today. Fushimi wondered how long that would take. Maybe if he got back online in an hour Misaki would be back and they could go try another quest. 

(It wasn't that he liked Misaki, of course. It was just that Misaki was easy to talk to, that was all. He only made fun of Fushimi's name when Fushimi started it, and Fushimi somehow knew that if he told Misaki all about that _other_ voice always calling him “monkey” from the other side of the telephone Misaki would stop in a heartbeat. And Misaki never pried too much about why he was online all the time, or told him he needed to go out more. He'd tried to hint that they should meet a couple times, of course – apparently they were in the same city, the Kings servers sorted by location if you didn't turn that option off and of course the option to turn it off was hidden behind ten different badly-glitching menus – but he never acted as though Fushimi was being a burden by not agreeing to it. He always sounded really happy too, whenever Fushimi was online, the computer voice overlay never quite dimming the cheerfulness in Misaki's voice when he saw Fushimi had logged on. He always listened to Fushimi's plans and let him have the best drops even at times when Misaki had done most of the work. But Fushimi didn't really like him. It was just that Misaki was different from everyone else, that was all.) 

Fushimi wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled on his coat. It really was cold and he was already feeling tired. Maybe he would get a coffee as long as he was out. 

There was a new coffee shop down the road, now that he thought about it. Might as well stop in now, when it was too early for most customers to be awake. He could probably get in there before the morning rush shuffled in and made it too crowded for his liking. 

After all, he might as well try it once. 

– 

Yata turned off his computer with a sigh and yawn. He probably should've slept a little longer, knowing he had to be at work early and everything. 

But Saruhiko had been online and who knew if he would still be online when Yata got off of work, so it had been worth the early morning wake-up. 

Saruhiko was really cool, after all. Yata smiled as he dug his work uniform out of his drawers. His roommate was still asleep – he could hear Kamamoto snoring even through the closed door of his room – so he tried to be quiet as he wandered into the kitchen to make himself a quick breakfast. 

Cafe Homra had just opened a couple weeks ago and Yata considered himself lucky to have been able to get a job there this quick. Soon he wouldn't just be able to pay his part of the rent but he could maybe try and pay Saruhiko back for getting him the armor that one time. He knew Saruhiko had been wanting a couple of the new pay-only rare items that had just showed up on the Kings webshop and while Saruhiko never talked much about it Yata suspected that his friend was on just as much or even more of a limited budget than Yata was himself. 

Yata swallowed down the rest of his breakfast, dropped his dishes in the sink and grabbed his coat as he made his way out the door. The sun was just rising from behind the clouds and the air was crisp and cold. 

It was going to be a good day, anyway. He was getting pretty good at taking orders and making coffee, and Kusanagi-san was really happy with how well he handled the morning rush that first day. It was a little difficult keeping the more elaborate orders straight but Yata was sure he'd get better at that soon too and then he'd be able to show Kusanagi-san and Mikoto-san what a great employee he was. 

It was definitely going to be a good day, just as long as he didn't get any asshole customers. 

– 

“Welcome!” Yata looked up with a quick greeting and a smile as the bell rang to signify the door opening. It was still a little early for the morning rush and he was busy cleaning behind the register while he waited for customers to arrive. Most of the other employees were busy taking care of an arriving shipment in the back but Yata had assured Kusanagi that he could _totally_ handle the front all by himself and he was determined to live up to that promise. 

The guy who'd walked in barely even looked at him, giving nothing but a soft irritated click of his tongue in reply. Yata couldn't help scowling a little – he'd gone to all the trouble to say 'hi,' the guy could _at least_ look up at him – and then forced the smile back on his face as the customer walked up to the register. 

It was a skinny guy, probably about Yata's age or a little older, wearing a tattered coat with a scarf around his neck. The guy's face looked like it was almost perpetually set in a scowl and Yata sighed internally – so much for not having any asshole customers today. 

“Welcome to Cafe Homra!” Okay maybe he sounded a little _too_ enthusiastic but Yata figured more was better than less, right? The skinny guy clicked his tongue again and Yata tried not to let that deflate his mood. “What can I get for you?” 

“Coffee.” The guy half-muttered the order into his scarf and it made Yata suddenly want to be _extra_ friendly just to piss him off. 

“I'm sorry, sir, what was that?” Yata made sure to raise his voice just a little louder and smile just a little wider. The look the guy gave him suggested that Yata may have overcompensated just a bit into 'dropped on head as a child' but Yata doggedly kept the smile plastered on his face. 

_“Coffee.”_ The guy glared at him. “That's an easy order, isn't it? I thought even an idiot would be able to understand that.” 

“I-I didn't say it was a hard order!” Yata snapped immediately before remembering that he was talking to a customer and he was _supposed_ to be nice, even if the guy was a total asshole. “Anyway, how's anyone supposed to hear you if you mumble like that?” 

“I wasn't mumbling,” the guy said coolly. He smirked and Yata felt his own smile waver. Dammit, he was not going to lose to this asshole. He was going to be so friendly the guy wouldn't know what hit him, so there. “Maybe it's just hard for you to hear me all the way down there.” 

“What the hell was that?” Yata said and then bit his lip. _Friendly, friendly._ “A- _anyway,_ what size?” 

“Size?” the guy clicked his tongue again and yeah, Yata was getting really sick of that. 

“It means how big or small you want your cup to be,” Yata said deliberately, as if talking to a child. “I thought any _idiot_ would get that.” 

“So you must drink the kid's size then,” the guy said, not missing a beat. Yata dug his fingers into the counter and tried to keep his voice calm as he replied. 

“Just—just name a size already.” 

“I don't know.” The guy smiled widely, he was definitely fucking with Yata now. “Tell me what sizes you have and maybe I'll decide.” 

“It's on the sign board behind me,” Yata replied through gritted teeth. 

“Aren't you supposed to be _helping_ the customer?” the guy said. He was still smirking and Yata wanted to punch him in his stupid face. 

“I showed you where it was, right?” Yata muttered. _Smile, dammit, smile. Gotta smile._ “So pick a size or you're not getting any coffee.” 

“Tch. A small then. Like your brain.” 

“What the fuck was--” Yata clenched his fists and swallowed hard. “We don't _have_ a small.” 

“Whatever your smallest size is,” the guy said. “You should be able to figure out what I meant, right?” He eyed the menu and snickered quietly. “Oh, I see. You want me to order a _short,_ right? You'd know all about that, I suppose.” He glanced at Yata's name tag. “Yata. Aren't you supposed to use your first name on a name tag?” 

“That's none of your business,” Yata grumbled, grabbing a cup and a pen from behind the counter. “Name for the order?” 

“Fushimi,” the guy said shortly. 

“That's a weird _first name.”_ Yata couldn't stop himself from saying it. 

“Because I don't need to give my first name to _the help,_ ” Fushimi replied with a snort. Yata swallowed down a curse and went to make the guy's coffee. 

Yata deliberately took his time, part of him hoping that maybe the asshole would get bored and leave while he was in the middle of it. No such luck, Fushimi was still waiting for him as he brought the coffee over, giving Yata a withering look as Yata slid the cup over to him and told him the price. 

“Did you have to call your mommy to help you make this?” Fushimi said with amusement as he handed Yata a mess of bills and coins. “I didn't know they let elementary schoolers work coffee machines.” 

“Shut up,” Yata snapped before his brain caught up with him. _Oh well. Fuck friendly anyway._ At least Kusanagi hadn't seem him talking like that to a customer (even if the guy was an asshole so as far as Yata was concerned he was totally justified). 

Fushimi didn't reply, just gave him another smirk that made Yata's blood boil as Fushimi calmly sipped his coffee and turned to walk out the door. Yata waited until he was gone and then slammed a fist on the counter. 

“Yata-chan!” Immediately he heard Kusanagi's scolding voice behind him and Yata swallowed a sigh. So much for his good day. 

– 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Okay, okay, I'm back.” 

The red ninja looked around the alley near the crystal padlock. No one had touched it but a couple other players had left graffiti around the wall, clear signs that someone had at least tried to break the lock. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Saru? You here?” 

19knives: “Of course I'm here, idiot. I've been here for over an hour.” 

The blue avatar appeared as if from nowhere out of the wall. There was a sound through the microphone, a distinct surprised squeak. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Don't jump out of nowhere like that!” 

19knives: “Don't be such a scaredy cat, Mi. Sa. Ki.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Shut up. I've already dealt with enough assholes today you know.” 

The blue avatar seemed to freeze for a moment, almost as if he'd gone offline, and then the voice came over the game again. 

19knives: “...Your job, huh?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Yeah. It kinda sucked, I couldn't wait to get home and play.” 

It was hard to tell, but it seemed like the blue avatar suddenly got slightly more active. 

19knives: “Are you ready?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Yeah, let's do this dungeon!” 

– 

Fushimi closed the computer reluctantly, limbs feeling slightly stiff. It was well past midnight and they'd gotten through two dungeons and half of a third before Misaki had said he had to go to bed, since he had work tomorrow. 

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue quietly. He was still wide awake but there didn't seem to be any point in playing the shitty game anymore without Misaki there. Not that he needed a partner, it was just that Kings sucked even more at solo than co-op. 

The room was far too cold and he got up to shut the window. It wasn't even mid-October yet, it shouldn't be this cold, but it always seemed like the apartment was freezing. 

_Not quite mid-October._ Fushimi glanced briefly at the calendar hanging on the wall. Not quite mid-month but still less than a month until... 

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. No point in thinking about that anyway, not right now. Fushimi felt suddenly tired though, too tired to move from his pile of blankets in the center of the room. 

The small apartment had been feeling larger and larger lately and he wasn't sure why. Fushimi flopped over on his side with a sigh. It always took him hours to fall asleep and he wondered if it was worth trying to get back online until he got too tired to play anymore. Misaki might change his mind after all, stay awake longer. 

_Not likely._ Fushimi felt annoyed at himself all of the sudden. It wasn't like he needed Misaki, not for anything. It was getting to be pathetic, the way he kept checking all the time to see if Misaki was online. 

It wasn't like he didn't know this kind of thing, after all. He'd learned it long ago, that he was better off on his own. 

Fushimi cursed quietly and sat back up, opening his laptop so violently for a moment he was surprised he hadn't snapped it in two. Wrapping the blanket over his head, he signed back on to Kings. 

He would just play on his own, that was all. It wasn't like he needed other people, friends, anything about the world outside his apartment. This place was better, definitely. 

Though he supposed the coffee shop hadn't been _too_ bad. It had smelled a little and Fushimi hadn't been terribly impressed with the coffee but at least he'd had fun teasing the idiot behind the counter. It _had_ been pretty amusing watching the moron try not to swear at him. Fushimi had almost enjoyed himself, which was a rarity for him in public. 

He might even go back there another day, if he felt like it. 

– 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Ugh, today _sucked.”_

19knives: “Less complaining, more monster killing Misaki.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “I _am_ killing them!” 

The red avatar onscreen did another fancy flip and momentarily glitched out of existence. 

19knives: “If you hate your job so much just quit.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “You're just mad because _I_ got us money for cool new gear. Anyway I don't hate it I just hate the assholes I have to help. This one guy came in last month and then he came back just a few days ago and--” 

The red avatar was only saved from being cut in two by the blue avatar's timely intervention. 

19knives: “You're being tiresome today, Misaki. If you don't want to play just log out.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “I didn't say I don't want to play!” 

The red ninja made a wide gesture, as if its player was trying to express irritation through it. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Why are you in such a bad mood anyway?” 

19knives: “I have a cold and some idiot keeps almost getting himself killed instead of playing.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “You're sick? Are you okay?” 

It was possible to hear the concern even through the tinny computerized voice. It was definitely irritating, and the tone was nothing that would send a flutter through a person's stomach. That was just a side effect of the cold, definitely. 

19knives: “I'm fine. It's just a cold.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Yeah but you live alone right? What if something happens and you get worse? You know if you told me where you lived I could--” 

19knives: “Shut up Misaki. I said I'm fine. I've had plenty of colds before.” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Yeah, well, I'm going to check on you every couple hours just to be sure you haven't died, shitty monkey.” 

19knives: “I might not be online much tomorrow.” 

The computer voice was distinctly flat now, and the blue avatar destroyed a couple more smoke monsters. 

hottemperedskateboarder: “Oh right, I guess you're going out, huh?” 

19knives: “What the hell does that mean?” 

hottemperedskateboarder: “It's on your profile, right? Tomorrow's your birthday.” 

Log out. 

– 

Yata stared at the computer screen blankly. Saruhiko's avatar was flickering in and out, a sign that its player had probably logged out. 

Right in the middle of a battle too, and Yata swore as he found himself forced to use one of his pay items to effect a quick escape. He'd been way too close to getting killed and having to start over from the newbie graveyard again. 

“What the hell is up with that guy, running in the middle of a fight,” Yata muttered, annoyed. Well, it wasn't like he didn't know Saruhiko was a jerk sometimes, but this was weird behavior even for him. All Yata had done was mention Saruhiko's birthday, it wasn't like it had been a big deal or anything. 

_And he probably won't get online at all tomorrow,_ Yata thought. In truth he felt a little crestfallen, he'd been planning to buy Saruhiko some new gear as a birthday gift. 

Well, maybe that would have been weird, though. They hadn't even ever met in person, after all. He didn't even know Saruhiko's last name, much less where he lived. It would probably seem weird, getting gifts for a guy he barely knew. 

But he _liked_ Saruhiko, that was all. Sure the guy took some time to warm up to but Yata had gotten used to that, gotten used to the way Saruhiko talked like a jerk but always helped Yata get past levels he wouldn't have been able to manage on his own. And sometimes when Saruhiko was in his best moods they would play and talk for hours, just chatting about anything that came to mind and even if Yata said something stupid like how he used to want to be superhero or how he wanted to save money to buy a motorcycle Saruhiko always listened to him seriously. It just felt... _easy_ , talking to Saruhiko. 

_I hope he's all right._ Yata sighed as he closed his computer. Saruhiko never talked about himself much but Yata was sure that he lived alone and that he probably didn't have many friends. If Saruhiko had a bad cold then there'd be no one to check on him, no one to take care of him if things got worse. 

Saruhiko had said he wasn't going to be online much tomorrow, but Yata thought that maybe he'd check anyway, just in case. 

– 

Fushimi groaned quietly as he poked his head out from under his blankets. His head was still pounding and his nose felt completely clogged, the same as it had for the last two days. Fushimi fumbled for a tissue as he dragged himself to his feet. 

He felt too tired to even attempt a quick shower and Fushimi rested his arms on the low counter that doubled as his kitchen table, lowering his head down so that his forehead was pressed against the hard wooden surface. 

It really shouldn't be so bad, having a stupid cold. He got them at least a few times a year and he was used to spending a few days swallowing down cold medicine and hiding under his blankets until he felt better. Fushimi's eyes traveled over to his computer. 

Misaki had said he'd check on Fushimi, hadn't he? To see if Fushimi was getting online regularly and still okay. If Fushimi logged on now, Misaki might be there. 

_And then what?_ Fushimi thought, lip curling. He was still such an idiot, clinging to things he knew would never remain in his hands for long. _Why don't you tell him where you live, you weak little child, and he can come and play nursemaid for you all day long?_ Fushimi laughed coldly to himself. 

As if that would happen. As if Misaki would even come anyway, if Fushimi told him where he lived. 

The phone rang and Fushimi suddenly froze, mouth gone dry. The apartment had an old landline phone for emergencies, with a number Fushimi didn't even remember let alone give out. But still, the phone was ringing. 

Of course _that guy_ would be able to find the number, and Fushimi's hands suddenly felt numb. 

The phone rang again and again. Fushimi stayed where he was, breathing hard, heart pounding, teeth clenched. 

Maybe it wasn't that person. Maybe it was only a wrong number. 

But Fushimi knew what day it was, and who it had to be. 

The phone rang one more time and then the machine picked up. Fushimi's own voice, the half-hearted message he'd recorded when he leased the apartment: “This is the machine. You know the drill.” 

Silence. 

And then-- 

_“I know you're there, Saruhiko~”_

The voice was light and laced with amusement, and Fushimi's hands started to shake. 

_“Hey, did you really think I'd forget my little monkey's birthday? It's so lonely without you around to play with, you know. Papa's been worried sick.”_ A laugh, one which made Fushimi feel like he might throw up. It seemed like his heart was beating fast, too fast, and he wondered if he was going to faint. _“Why don't you come home, monkey? We can play all kinds of fun birthday games, like we used to do when you were here.”_ Throw up. He was definitely going to throw up. _“Or maybe I should come over there. What do you think? I don't need to tell you the time, it'll be a surprise! You always loved surprises, right Saruhiko?”_

No answer, and then a click as the phone hung up. Fushimi suddenly seemed to be able to breathe again and he took a step towards the computer. 

The phone rang again. Again. Again. Fushimi wanted to smash it suddenly, throw it against the wall, security deposit be damned. 

_“It's me again, little monkey...”_

With sudden ferocity Fushimi grabbed his laptop, pulling the cord from the wall and stuffing the computer under his arm as he struggled to put on his coat. He still felt like shit and the idea of going out in the snow or doing anything other than sleeping until the fucking cold went away made him feel even worse. But he couldn't stay here, not today. 

He'd known it, hadn't he? That guy always found some way to do things like this on November 7th, every year. Fushimi slammed the door behind him. 

The coffee shop had wi-fi, right? Who knew, maybe Misaki would be online after all. 

– 

“Good mor--” Yata stopped mid-greeting, swallowing a groan as he caught sight of the person walking through the door. 

_Great, that asshole again._ Seriously, what had he done to deserve this? It was that Fushimi guy again, the one who never stopped mocking Yata through the whole transaction, getting his stupid coffee and tossing a bunch of crumpled bills in Yata's direction. 

And Fushimi had brought his laptop with him too, Yata thought miserably. Usually Fushimi ran out of the place as soon as he got his drink but it looked like this time he was planning on _staying_ for a while too. The last thing Yata needed was for some asshole to keep bugging him while he tried to navigate the morning rush. 

“What do you want?” Yata didn't even bother to fake a smile as Fushimi walked up. Fushimi gave Yata a withering look and Yata suddenly noticed that he looked a little more worn out than usual. 

“That's not very friendly of you, _Yata._ ” Somehow Fushimi had a way of making Yata dislike his last name almost as much as his first name. 

“Just order already,” Yata snapped. Fushimi made a sound that seemed like it began as a snort but ended in a sniffle, and for the first time Yata noticed the redness in his cheeks and eyes. 

_Should you even be out like this if you're that sick?_ Yata thought, suddenly indignant without knowing why. _You should be in bed you know._

“Coffee,” Fushimi said shortly. He looked so miserable that Yata couldn't even bring himself to make Fushimi say anything more, turning to make the usual coffee. 

“Do you want some soup or something?” Yata said it without even thinking and Fushimi clicked his tongue. 

“I don't think I asked you for suggestions, _Yata_ ,” Fushimi muttered. He was definitely nasal and Yata wondered if he'd get in trouble for withholding the guy's coffee until he sat down and ate something warm and healthy. Fushimi looked a little unsteady too, like he was going to keel over any second, and Yata paused. 

Fushimi was an asshole and Yata definitely didn't like him. But the poor guy looked like utter shit right now and Yata couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. 

“Go sit down before you faint and block the line,” Yata said. “I'll bring you your coffee, okay?” 

Fushimi clicked his tongue and muttered something but he nodded anyway, taking a weaving step away from the counter. He paused for a moment, fiddling with the pockets of his coat and scowling before finally pulling out a credit card and leaving it on the counter next to the register. Yata sighed, already turning away to make the coffee as Fushimi slowly shuffled towards the far corner of the coffee shop. 

_Seriously, who lets a guy who looks that bad go out alone?_ Yata thought as he started to work the coffee machine. _I bet he doesn't eat anything at all today too. He's probably gonna sit there in the corner all day on his computer sniffling and drinking coffee._

Well, maybe Yata could give the guy a break and comp him on the refills, just for today. Yata set the coffee down for a moment and went to run Fushimi's card through the register. 

Fushimi usually paid by cash, but Yata supposed he'd just forgotten that today. He did kinda look like he'd left his place in a hurry, he'd forgotten his usual scarf and his coat wasn't even buttoned. No wonder he had a cold, really. 

Yata looked down idly at the card as he pressed the 'accept' button on the register. 

_'Fushimi Saruhiko,' huh? Hey, that's the same name as--_

_As--_

“Holy shit.” Yata's head shot up, staring at the figure hunched over his laptop at the corner table. 

_It couldn't be._ Sure, they lived in the same area, but it wasn't like 'Saruhiko' was a completely weird name or anything. It was probably just a coincidence, that Fushimi and Yata's Saruhiko had the same name, the same name and the same jerky attitude, and– 

_“It's just a cold.”_

It had to be. Yata suddenly felt himself smiling and he didn't even know why. It definitely had to be Saruhiko, right? Saruhiko had said he had a cold last night plus he wasn't going to be home today (apparently because he was hanging out in coffee shop all day for some reason). There was no way all that was a coincidence. 

“Hey, Yata-san, there are customers coming in.” Akagi came out from where he'd been sorting inventory in the back. He was a fairly new hire and Yata had been enjoying lording his half a month of superiority over him for the last couple days. 

“Hey. Akagi.” Yata looked over at him with a wide smile. “I'm taking an early break today, okay?” 

“Huh?” 

Five minutes later Yata stalked purposefully over the table in the corner, coffee in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other. He could feel the nervousness creeping up his throat and he swallowed it back down. It was just Saruhiko, right? They were friends. There was nothing to be worried about. 

Yata took a deep breath and set the coffee down on Fushimi's table. 

“Took you long enough, shrimp.” Fushimi didn't even look up and Yata risked leaning around to look at the computer screen. 

There was a familiar blue avatar on screen, cutting through monsters easily as if the player was simply doing it to ease his boredom. 

“I knew it!” Yata's yell was enough to make Saruhiko and probably half the line waiting by the register look up. 

“What the hell are you--” Fushimi sputtered, indignant complaining smothered only by a sudden sneeze. 

“I can't believe _you_ were the asshole giving me trouble all this time,” Yata said. “You could've just said something, you know? Ah, well, I guess you didn't know either but _still—”_

“Aren't you supposed to be working and not bothering customers?” Fushimi said coldly and Yata gave a sheepish laugh. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just--” Yata shook his head. “It's _me,_ Saruhiko! You—you know...” He lowered his voice, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. “Misaki.” 

Fushimi's head shot up at that, staring at Yata as though he'd just seen a ghost. 

“I know, weird, right?” Yata laughed as he grabbed a chair from one of the other tables and pulled it over. “I can't believe we've been meeting all this time and never knew it. I was starting to think you were a real jerk you know--” 

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, lowering his eyes back to the computer screen. “You're more annoying in person, Misaki.” 

“Don't call me that in public,” Yata said quickly. The sudden smirk on Fushimi's face only made it clear that was now _exactly_ what Fushimi intended to do. “Anyway, what are you even doing here? You look like shit.” 

“I wanted some air,” Fushimi muttered. 

“I can't believe anyone let you out of the house like that, I thought you were gonna faint and I was gonna have to call an ambulance or something,” Yata continued, heedless. “Hey, and it's your birthday too, right? You should--” 

“Shut up.” Fushimi's shoulders were hunched suddenly, tense, and Yata remembered how he'd logged out so quickly the day before. Yata stared at him for a long moment and then shoved the bowl over at him. 

“Here, eat.” 

Fushimi looked down at the bowl uncomprehendingly. 

“It's soup,” Yata said patiently. “I bought it for you. I—I know it's kind of a shitty birthday gift...I was gonna buy you something good to use in Kings but I kinda thought you could use this more. So eat it, okay? It'll make you feel better.” 

“There are vegetables in it.” Fushimi seemed awkward all of a sudden, like a little kid as he stirred the soup idly with a finger. 

“Yeah, and I'm gonna sit here until you eat them all and get something healthy in your stomach,” Yata said. “Or until my break's over, anyway. Seriously what do you even eat, Saruhiko? No wonder you get sick so easy.” 

Fushimi stared down at his bowl with a slight defiant expression and Yata handed him a spoon. 

“Come on, it's good,” Yata said. “Hey, you don't have any plans today, right?” 

Fushimi made a sound that might have been an affirmation, slowly bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips. 

“I get off shift in like three hours,” Yata said. “You stay here until then, okay? If you feel worse just let me know and I bet I can get Kusanagi-san to let you rest in the back. Then I'll take you home, okay?” 

“Not going home,” Fushimi said quietly. “Not...not today.” 

Yata's eyes widened slightly and finally he sighed. 

“Well, no help for it I guess. You'll have to come to my place.” 

“What?” Fushimi looked up at him incredulously and Yata smiled widely. 

“Well, you're sick, right?” Yata said. “So we'll go back to my place and I can take care of you.” 

Fushimi seemed to have trouble absorbing that, staring at Yata as though he'd said something outrageous. Somehow Saruhiko's reaction made Yata want to find the person who'd made him the type of guy to make that sort of expression and punch that person in the face. 

“Why?” Saruhiko finally asked softly, eyes shifting away to stare back down into his soup bowl. 

“Well, we're friends, right?” Yata risked reaching out to touch Fushimi's hand. Fushimi started in surprise for a moment and then suddenly leaned his head over, resting it on Yata's shoulder. From Saruhiko's face Yata suspected he hadn't expected himself to do that any more than Yata had, but after a moment Saruhiko relaxed and closed his eyes, his breathing pained and unsteady. 

“So just rest for a while,” Yata said softly, hand closing just a bit over Saruhiko's. “I'll take care of you, okay?” 

Fushimi didn't speak, but Yata thought he felt him relax anyway. 

– 

“Today's the day, huh, Yata-san?” 

“You can do it. Just go over there and give it to him!” 

Fushimi clicked his tongue in irritation as he turned back to his computer, eyes sliding down to double check the time again. Five more minutes until Misaki got off shift, and all Misaki's idiot coworkers were crowding around Misaki and chattering like Fushimi couldn't hear them. 

The cafe was nice and cool at least, a good change from his apartment that was utterly sweltering in the summertime. Yata's boss didn't seem to mind Fushimi spending half the day in the coffee shop using their wi-fi, so Fushimi had been coming by more and more often in order to get his work done. That Misaki would come by and talk with him every now and again and sometimes bring him free sandwiches along with the usual coffee was, admittedly, a rather nice bonus. If he liked that sort of thing, of course. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue as he corrected another line of code on the screen in front of him. Honestly, it was no wonder Kings had so many glitches with the idiots Scepter4 Systems had working for them. Fushimi didn't even know what the hell they were doing letting a moron like Doumyoji design _anything,_ like alone do the computer work for it himself. Munakata would probably give him some bullshit about the usefulness of a creative mind or something like that if he asked, so Fushimi had just resigned himself to having to fix all the mistakes everyone else had made. Sometimes he thought maybe the virus idea would have been better after all. 

He couldn't really complain about the steady paycheck, though. That was Misaki's fault too – or rather, Misaki's boss, since as it happened Kusanagi was dating the assistant manager of Scepter4 Systems. They'd been searching for someone to help iron out the bugs in Kings for some time and apparently Misaki had been bragging about Fushimi's skills enough that Kusanagi had given him the number for S4S's HR department. Fushimi had been initially resistant to the idea – he didn't do well with interviews, or with bosses, or coworkers – but Misaki hadn't left him alone about it, constantly fussing over Fushimi's lack of decent food and heating in his apartment, as if it was any of Misaki's business. The first two interviews had gone rather poorly, at least as far as Fushimi had thought, but then he'd been unexpectedly asked back to meet the head of the company. 

_That_ interview had been even worse, because from what Fushimi could tell Munakata Reisi loved to hear the sound of his own voice, but he'd ended up being hired anyway. Apparently Munakata was considered something of an eccentric and hired people based on stupid arbitrary criteria like 'potential' and 'intuition.' Either way, Fushimi had suddenly found himself with a job and a steady source of income. A job that actually wasn’t really so bad, when you got down to it – he'd been itching to fix all the glitches in Kings since he'd first logged on and now he finally had the chance, not to mention the extra challenge of adding a few new functions and graphics modules that he thought might be interesting. Munakata had given him an oddly large amount of freedom on that score, come to think of it. 

The only bad side was that as a member of the programming team he was handicapped in his abilities as a player – to avoid giving anyone outside advantages, Munakata had said. Still, that wasn't too bad either. He and Misaki had found a few new games to play anyway, two player ones on Yata's game system at his apartment or versus games at the game center. In fact, outside of work it felt like Fushimi hadn't spent as much time on the computer as he used to. 

He glanced briefly back at Misaki, still surrounded by a ring of co-workers. Fushimi took a sip of his iced coffee and made a face, it tasted worse than he'd expected. He'd ordered regular coffee but Misaki had said something stupid about how it was too hot outside for regular coffee and he'd already had Fushimi faint on him too many times for one summer. 

Too many times, because they'd been spending so much time together recently. Fushimi ran a finger around the edge of his cup. It wasn't that he was enjoying it, or anything. It was just...strange, that was all. Different. Spending all day at Misaki's workplace waiting for Misaki to get off shift, Misaki coming over between customers to check on him and ask what he was doing. Going to Misaki's apartment on days off, playing games all day long. Talking about whatever came to mind, randomly, and Misaki always listened intently to everything Fushimi said. 

(And the other thing too, the nights when Fushimi couldn't go home because of the messages on his machine. Misaki never asked why but Fushimi had told him anyway, on accident, one night when Misaki's roommate had been gone and Fushimi had been convinced to go out drinking. They'd lain curled together on Misaki's couch, red-faced, and in the silence Fushimi had found himself whispering all the things he'd sworn never to tell anyone. Misaki had listened the whole time, eyes darkening with each word and arms tightening around Fushimi's body. When Fushimi stopped talking Misaki had started swearing angrily, saying nonsense like “If that asshole ever gets within three feet of you I'm gonna kick his ass” and “I'll get Mikoto-san and Kusanagi-san too, I won't let that guy touch you.” It was strange and stupid and the product of nothing but drunken rambling, but in the morning Yata had gone with Fushimi back to his apartment and immediately pulled the phone cord out of the wall.) 

They argued sometimes too, of course, and sometimes Fushimi would go back to his apartment certain in the belief that Misaki was never going to talk to him again. But he always woke up the next day with at least three new texts from Misaki asking where he was and telling him that if he didn't come to get his coffee sometime in the next ten minutes Misaki was skipping out on his shift and coming to check on him. 

Which was annoying, annoying and unnecessary and a bother. But it always made his face feel hot and his stomach flutter just a bit, when he saw Misaki's response. 

“A-ahem.” There was a very loud and obvious cough from next to him and Fushimi leaned his head back with a roll of his eyes. 

“I thought you still had five more minutes, _Misaki.”_ He let the word roll off his tongue the way it always did, and for once Misaki didn't even look annoyed about it. 

What he looked like, actually, was nervous. His face was a little pale and he was shifting from foot to foot, almost the way he acted whenever a girl walked by. It was like he had something to say but didn't know how to say it, and Fushimi suddenly felt his stomach drop for no reason. 

“S-Saruhiko...” Misaki swallowed hard. He seemed to be holding something in his hands. “So, um...you know my roommate, right?” 

Of course Fushimi knew Misaki's roommate. Kamamoto usually showed up at some point whenever he went to Misaki's apartment and was always trying to chat with Fushimi as if being friends with Yata made Kamamoto _his_ friend as well. 

“What about that fatty?” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I'm trying to work, Misaki.” 

“I know, give me a minute, okay?” Misaki coughed again, trying to cover himself. “A- _anyway,_ the point is, Kamamoto's got a girlfriend, right? He's always going to her place a lot of the time and stuff. He really likes her I guess, so—so he told me he proposed to her the other day and he's gonna be moving out. So that means I need a new roommate, and, well, I thought...” He suddenly grabbed Fushimi's hands, ignoring Fushimi's indignant huff, and pressed a small silver key into Fushimi's palms. 

Fushimi stared at it blankly. 

“Yeah, I guess that was sudden, wasn't it?” Misaki laughed, a little too loud, and Fushimi just kept looking down at the key in his hands. “But I thought, okay, I need a new roommate and since your apartment's not really the greatest and since you've got a job and everything now we could share the rent so...” 

_Ah._ So that was it. Fushimi clicked his tongue again and turned back to his computer, dropping the key onto the table. 

“You just need someone to help you with the rent payments, huh?” Fushimi began typing again, mindlessly, trying to focus on anything but the key sitting on the table next to his coffee cup. “You're so useless, Misaki. Find someone else to pay your bills.” 

“That's not what I meant!” Misaki grabbed his hands again, kneeling down so that he and Fushimi were face to face. His eyes were wide and earnest, and Fushimi suddenly felt lightheaded. 

“Saruhiko...okay, I know this is weird but I'm just gonna say it, all right? If—if you don't like it you can just tell me honestly, all right, it's okay, because you're super important to me and I don't want to screw anything up but I wanted to tell you...” Yata took another deep breath. “I—I like you. I mean, not just like you I...I _like_ like you. A lot. I mean, you're really cool and you know all kinds of stuff and you're always fun to talk to and great at thinking of stuff to do together and you always watch my back when we're playing video games and...and I just really like you, okay?” 

All the air seemed to rush out the room at once, and Fushimi could only stare at him. 

Yata was still looking straight at him, gaze never wavering, and there was nothing but absolute sincerity in his eyes. 

It didn't really make sense at all, from where Fushimi sat. After all, why someone like Misaki would ever like someone like _him_...it wasn't really something Fushimi could quite understand. But he knew Misaki. Misaki was stupid and simple-minded and wore all of his feelings like a badge on his sleeve. Misaki wasn't the type of person who could look someone in the eyes and lie to them. Misaki wasn't the type of person who would say something like that unless he absolutely meant every word, and Fushimi couldn't breathe. 

“...Okay.” Fushimi didn't know what else to say. There were definitely words there, though, lodged in his throat – maybe something like the words Misaki had just spoken, but they were trapped so far down Fushimi didn't even know what they were. But they were definitely there, deep inside, waiting for the day he'd be able to speak them to the open air. 

But he supposed that maybe, when that day came, he wouldn't mind it so much if Misaki was there to hear. 

Misaki smiled at him then, brilliant and dazzling even though Fushimi hadn't really offered him so much as a scrap of hope. But even so, Misaki smiled. 

“All right!” Misaki slammed a fist into the air, not caring that the rest of the customers in the shop were staring at him. “I'm gonna go get my stuff from the back and then I'll come get you, okay? We can stop by your place and I'll help you pack, and then we can go home together, all right?” 

Fushimi nodded silently and Misaki gave him another smile as he turned and hurried back towards the counter. His coworkers slapped him on the back as he came over, laughing, and Misaki rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

And then he looked over at Fushimi again and gave him a thumbs up before disappearing into the back room. Fushimi stared down into his coffee, fingers bumping against the key he'd laid down beside it. 

“Go home together, huh?” Fushimi said quietly, and for some reason he couldn't stop himself from smiling.


End file.
